


Matt Murdock's Evil Internship for Struggling Superheroes

by 94BottlesOfSnapple



Series: Spider-Verse 2: Into the Devil-Verse [4]
Category: Spider-Gwen (Comics), Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Earth-65, Evil Mentor Matt Murderdock, Gen, Matt Murderdock - Freeform, OC is a Big Ol Creep, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Training, World's Worst Mentor-Protege Duo, everyone needs so much therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-02-23 13:40:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23712388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/94BottlesOfSnapple/pseuds/94BottlesOfSnapple
Summary: Gwen agrees to be Murderdock's apprentice if he'll save her dad. It's the worst.
Relationships: Matt Murdock & Gwen Stacy
Series: Spider-Verse 2: Into the Devil-Verse [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1440463
Comments: 41
Kudos: 169





	Matt Murdock's Evil Internship for Struggling Superheroes

**Author's Note:**

> There really aren't good tags for what I wanted to say, so - warning for general creepiness; implied threats of (possibly) sexual violence are made against Gwen, a minor, by a creepy OC.
> 
> Anyway, That Guy aside, please enjoy this beautiful, horrible Chaos Duo beginning their slow-motion train wreck towards Murderdock's changed fate.
> 
> 6/27 Update: Realized two months late that I'm an idiot and forgot some scenes, including George Stacy's bail hearing. So. Please give this another read!

She didn’t tell Miles.

How could she have? He’d been doing everything he could to help her. If he knew what she was about to do… Just, she didn’t want him to think less of her. Which was stupid. Honestly, he might have even understood – was there anything he wouldn’t do to protect his own dad? But she still couldn’t bring herself to admit to Miles that Murderdock had outmaneuvered her. So, she’d waved him off when he opened a portal for their regular scheming session, like nothing was wrong – _just some extra homework, and then band practice, hella busy today, see you tomorrow Miles_ – and headed out to face the inevitable.

Gwen took a deep breath, staring up at the massive glass building looming over her.

Then she entered.

There was a bald guy standing in the middle of the lobby, waiting for her. One of Murderdock’s ninja lackeys, no doubt – but she’d also seen him hanging around dressed like an actual person, the way he was now. He was the one who chauffeured Murderdock— Murdock, she’d have to get used to calling him Murdock in her head so the nickname wouldn’t slip in again – places, she was pretty sure.

He didn’t talk to her, just gestured towards the elevators before walking towards them without so much as looking back to see if she would follow. Smug jackhole. She did follow, of course. And they rode up to the very top floor, also in silence, which was supremely awkward. Gwen couldn’t help but fidget, adjusting her jacket, jingling the keys in her pocket, stroking her thumb anxiously over and over the click wheel on her mp3 player.

The doors of the elevator opened with a ding. Murdock’s lackey stepped out.

“The urchin on your doorstep, as bid,” he said flatly.

Gwen bristled, but she was too nervous to spit anything back at him. Especially when Murdock stepped into view. He was wearing that garish red suit, jacket unbuttoned. Also no shoes or socks. Gwen had the weirdest urge to ask if she should slip her shoes off too, as though she were visiting a new friend’s house for the first time. She hunched her shoulders, stuffed her hands deeper in her jacket pockets, and stepped into the room without saying a word.

“Now, now, Otomo,” Murdock scolded without a trace of heat. “Don’t be rude. Spider-Woman is our guest.” He gestured vaguely to a set of fancy-looking leather armchairs. “Pull up a seat, Miss Stacy — what is it you wanted to speak to me about?”

Gwen did not sit. But she did find her voice.

“You already know what about, jackass,” she spat back at him, burning with humiliation.

“I have an inkling,” admitted Murdock, rubbing his chin. “But consider that I’ll probably be more amenable to helping you if you admit what you need.”

Gwen took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut. _Just like eating your vegetables_ , she thought wryly, a bitter taste in her mouth.

“It’s my dad,” she said at last, proud when her voice didn’t shake. “They arrested him this morning. Took him right from the house. They— The mayor and the police think he’s in league with Spider-Woman. With me. And that he’s been actively derailing the investigation to protect me.”

“Which he has,” Murdock pointed out, just to twist the knife like the dick he was. “But not to worry, kiddo. I’ve got a lot of experience getting guilty men off the hook. Of course...” He paused ominously. “I’m very fond of you, but I’m more of a ‘quid pro quo’ man than a ‘pro bono’ one. There _is_ something I want in return.”

Gwen rolled her eyes.

“Isn’t that the whole point? There’s something you’ve wanted this whole time, and I’d bet my drum set you arranged things this way so I’d owe you a favor.”

Murdock looked almost touched at the accusation, but chose not to address it.

“What I want,” he said instead, “is Spider-Woman working for me.”

Which wasn’t a surprise, really. He’d all but said it before. Still...

“What exactly would that mean?” Gwen asked.

“You would use your powers at my discretion; fight who I tell you to fight, save who I tell you to save. Hurt who I tell you to hurt.”

Kill who I tell you to kill, he didn’t say, but she could see it in the sharp curve of his smirk. Gwen’s stomach churned. A cold sweat began to bead her forehead and her hands shook.

“I. I don’t meet your standards yet,” she said hurriedly, scrambling for any excuse she could as the memory of Peter’s body in her arms itched at the base of her skull. “You said my form needed work. That you wanted to train me.”

Murdock tilted his head.

“Yes,” he agreed slowly. “I did say that.”

She latched on to that acquiescence with all her might.

“So I mean, maybe now’s not the best time to have me running missions for you, right? Don’t want to put the cart before the horse or anything.”

He didn’t have to buy it. What was really important was for him to be more interested and entertained by the idea of training her than the idea of ordering her to assassinate people. Murdock tilted his head to the side. Thoughtful. Intrigued. That was a good sign, at least.

“Fair enough,” Murdock decided after two or three agonizing minutes of silent deliberation. “Training first. I keep your father out of the clutches of the NYPD, and you do as I say. Do we have a deal?”

He held out a hand. Gwen squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath.

“Yeah. Deal.”

Then she opened them and accepted the handshake.

“Now then,” Murdock told her, once the deal was struck. “I’m good but even I’m not same-day-service, unfortunately – your father won’t be coming home tonight. But I’ll have him back to you by tomorrow. I just need to get a few things in order and we’ll go visit him around four. You’re probably staying with the Parkers for now, is that right?”

Gwen cringed. Knowing theoretically that the guy kept tabs on her was nothing compared to having it shoved in her face head-on.

“I’m staying at my house,” she told him, crossing her arms over her chest and hunching her shoulders. “They’re just gonna check up on me. So leave ‘em alone, or else—”

“I have no interest in them,” interrupted Murdock, waving her away like a gnat. “So paranoid, my dear, really. Anyway, I’ve got some calls to make to get daddy dearest’s bail hearing expedited. Otomo will show you out.”

* * *

It probably would have been smart to hightail it out of there as soon as possible, but Gwen couldn’t help herself. After Otomo walked her out the door of the building, she lingered. Tugged on her Spider-Woman costume in the nearest alley and clambered up to the top floor from the outside, making sure to stay out of sight of the enormous glass wall on the east side of the penthouse. Not that it mattered much – when she peeked through from the corner, Otomo wasn’t there to see her. Hell, Murdock wasn’t there either. And then she heard the scrape of plastic on stone from the rooftop.

“You have something to say.”

Gwen swallowed hard at the sound of Murdock’s voice and pressed herself up against the side of the building, trying to calm her pounding heart. She hadn’t swung in a high enough arc that Otomo would have seen her. She’d been quiet. Just had to stay low. Deep, quiet breaths.

“It’s inauspicious to begin by coddling her this way,” replied Otomo, sourly. “She’s already unsuitable in every manner — a crude, undisciplined white girl who doesn’t respect authority or tradition and never knows when to stop speaking. She’s as far from the ideal ninja as it’s possible to get.”

“You know I value your opinion, Otomo,” Murdock said in an irritatingly cheerful sing-song, “but branching out is important. Never keep all your eggs in one basket, I always say. I don’t need Miss Stacy to be trained as a ninja as long as she’s useful. And besides, it was a clever sidestep. I want to reward that.”

Gross. She _really_ did not like him sounding pleased about anything she’d done.

“So you won’t be needing my assistance in training her, at least?”

“No, Otomo,” assured Murdock. “I’m not quite so cruel as to give you a student you obviously don’t want. Your expertise won’t be needed with Spider-Woman. I’ll work with her personally.”

“Thank you for that,” Otomo answered with the kind of mixture of sarcasm and relief that made Gwen peel a hand away from the wall to hand-puppet him.

Jerk. Gwen was a _delight_. She’d make a great student. Besides, who said she even wanted to be a ninja anyway? No one. Ninjas were jerks.

“You can go, Otomo,” Murdock said, dismissively.

Gwen imagined him fluttering his hand in a brushing-away motion, but didn’t dare peek over the ledge to see.

“Yes sir.”

Otomo’s response was flat, but not disrespectful – an impressive balancing act Gwen wanted to file away to use on B. Even if Otomo was a butthead and had no interest in teaching her, Gwen wasn’t too proud to admit he had a pretty badass attitude. But that was probably what it took to hang around an evil baddie like Murdock all day.

Otomo’s exit was marked by the even metronome of his steps and the solid click of a heavy door. Then it was just Gwen and Murdock. Like it would be whenever he started training her. What would that be like? Violent, probably. But if he just wanted to kick the crap out of her, he didn’t exactly need training as an excuse, right? They were already, like, sworn enemies and all. So maybe there’d be something to it. And, ok, yeah, he was right that she didn’t exactly have any training in fighting forms. So. It might be useful.

Her train of thought was interrupted by the sound of footsteps – quiet, Murdock probably still had his feet bare – and then a sigh, right above her head. Gwen could just make out Murdock’s throat, his chin, a few strands of red hair. He loosened the tie around his neck, and she flattened herself further against the building. Murdock’s hands came to rest on the ledge, and he leaned out over it a little.

“Oh, and Spider-Woman?” he said conversationally, which just about stopped Gwen’s heart. “Practice begins tomorrow evening at seven. Don’t be late.”

She wanted to ask how he’d known she was still hanging around, but also kind of really didn’t want to know the answer. Either he was enough of a dick to fake being blind, or he had some freaky bad guy equivalent of her Spider Sense or… Or something worse, who even knew. So she just swung past with a ‘fuck you’ and webbed her way home. Even though she only caught a glimpse of it as she zipped by, his smug grin kept her pissed off for the rest of the afternoon.

* * *

Murdock’s car showed up at her door five minutes before four o’clock. Otomo stepped out of the driver’s seat to open the back door for her, and Gwen almost asked if she could ride shotgun, just to avoid sitting next to Murdock. The totally blank but totally judgmental look on Otomo’s face stopped her in her tracks. Thankfully, Murdock was too busy listening to something on his phone – she couldn’t tell what because he was using earbuds – to make any smug remarks.

Passing into the jail was a blur – Murdock handled everything with chilly efficiency, allowing Gwen to spend her time panicking about what her dad would say.

“ _No_ ,” is what he said, jerking to his feet the second Murdock stepped into the visiting room behind her.

“Captain Stacy,” greeted Murdock with a shark’s smile. “Sounds like you’re in a tight spot. Lucky you have such a dutiful daughter, isn’t it?”

“No,” Dad repeated. “I won’t. I _refuse_ , I—”

“ _You_ ,” Murdock said sharply, slapping a packet of papers down on the table, “don’t have much of a _choice_ , I’m afraid. What are you going to do, Captain? Represent yourself? How long do you think Castle’s going to try and make them push back the date of your bail hearing? Are you going to leave _your child_ alone for however long it takes to break your faith in the system or satisfy your pathetic need for self-righteousness?”

Gwen could see her dad break under the onslaught. His shoulders slumped, and he dropped back onto his chair. Inside the pockets of her hoodie, Gwen’s hands tightened into fists. She knew Dad was right not to want anything to do with Murdock. She knew compromising would hurt him. But there wasn’t any other way, she reminded herself. Murdock was their best, maybe their only, chance.

“And what do you want from me in return?” Dad asked, weary, as he picked up the papers Murdock had set before him.

“Nothing.”

Dad set the papers back down.

“Nothing?” he repeated, suspicion in his voice.

“Nothing.” And then Murdock’s hand fell on Gwen’s shoulder. “Your debt has already been paid in full.”

It was like Dad had been struck in the face. The horror in his eyes made Gwen want to curl up and die, but she just straightened her spine instead.

“Gwen. You didn’t… What did you…?”

“I made a deal with him,” she said, shaking off Murdock’s grip and stepping closer to her dad. “To work for him if he helped you. I… I know it sounds bad, but… I know what I’m doing. It’s going to be ok, Dad. I promise, I’ll get you out of here.”

That just seemed to upset him more.

“Sweetheart that… That isn’t your responsibility,” he pleaded, reaching out a hand to her. “Don’t do this for me.”

Gwen took it and squeezed.

“I’m doing it for both of us. I…”

There was a loud clearing of the throat, and they both jerked back, turning towards Murdock.

“I love a touching little family scene as much as the next person, but I really do need to get those papers filed before your hearing tomorrow,” he said, pushing up his sleeve to run his fingers over the face of his watch.

“Gwen—”

“Please, Dad. Please just do this. For… For me?”

Dad signed the papers, agreeing to let Murdock represent him. A weight lifted off Gwen’s chest, but in the end, it only settled deeper into her stomach. Her dad, the most honest and straightforward person she knew, had been dragged into Murdock’s schemes. And it was her fault.

But, she reminded herself, it was better than the alternative. Dad would be home by the next afternoon. Murdock had promised her that when no one else could. As long as she got her dad back safe and sound, that was all that mattered.

* * *

The bail hearing was torturous. Gwen had dressed up for the occasion in her nicest skirt and blouse, but she still felt like a kid playing dress-up. And there was a part of her – the part she normally liked, the part that believed Murdock wasn’t really above justice, that he couldn’t really be as in control of everything as he claimed to be – that was anxious about the outcome of the hearing. It wasn’t the real trial, that wouldn’t be for ages, but this would control how much bail they’d have to pay, or even if they’d let her dad out on bail at all.

Plus, Detective Castle had shown up to spectate, like the asshole he was. There was this smug, vindictive look in his eyes that made Gwen want to web him in the face. There were a few of her dad’s other coworkers in the room, and she could also see DA Nelson standing at the back, looking anxious as usual. Gwen herself was sitting right behind her dad, between May and Ben.

The judge called the court to order and then let Murdock say his piece.

“Your Honor,” said Murdock, and his voice took on a totally different tone than usual – firm but respectful, without an ounce of the arrogance that usually flavored it. “The charges leveled against my client are delusional at best and genuinely vindictive at worst. But I’ll be happy to fight them on my client’s behalf at a time of the court’s choosing. Captain Stacy, however, cannot wait. He’s a good, upstanding man with a pristine service record who poses no flight risk. I can call any number of witnesses to his character to the stand, including some of the very officers who arrested him. The charges against him, while severe, are non-violent. But most importantly, his continued incarceration leaves Gwendolyn, his fifteen-year-old daughter, without a guardian. It’s my belief that waiving his bail is the only correct response in this case.”

Across the room, Gwen could see Castle’s face turn puce with rage. His breathing was so heavy Gwen could hear it from across the room. Murdock had to be able to sense it somehow with his freaky whatever-he-had, but he stayed calm and serene. Dad and Murdock answered the judge’s questions, presented a couple of documents, and then awaited her response. The deliberation took only five minutes, but they were some of the longest of Gwen’s life.

“Given the character of the defendant, his lack of flight risk, and his family situation, it is my determination that bail is unnecessary in this case, and should be waived.” The gavel hit her desk with a clack. “Let Captain Stacy go home to his daughter while he awaits trial.”

Castle just about flipped his lid at that, but Gwen was too busy running up to hug her dad to care. Home. He was coming home. One night without him was hardly worth mentioning when it was because she’d had a sleepover, but one night knowing he was in jail? That he was in jail because he’d been trying to protect her? That had been torturously long.

It was horrible to have to share the victory with Murdock, but luckily, he didn’t seem interested in mocking them as they walked out of the courtroom together. Of course, if he didn’t ruin the moment, the universe just had to make sure someone else would. And who else fit the bill but Frank Castle?

He stomped up to them in the hallway, and Gwen squared her shoulders, but— He didn’t even look at her or her dad or the Parkers. His eyes were trained on Murdock alone.

“I should’ve known Stacy was tangled up with _you_. Mark my words, I’ll get you for this, Murdock,” Castle seethed. “You’re both going down.”

The veins in his face bulged in a very unflattering way. Murdock just tilted his head.

“Is that a threat, Detective?” he asked, and Gwen’s Spider Sense instantly went from a low buzz to a screaming air raid siren.

Even Castle seemed to sense it, because he took a half-step back. A shiver dropped down Gwen’s spine.

And yet… She felt oddly safe. Murdock, the biggest threat in the room, was on her side – and he was toying with Castle. Castle had always scared Gwen, just a little. But she wasn’t afraid of him now, because there was nothing he could do to her. Against Murdock’s web of corruption, Castle was just a struggling fly. There was nothing he could do to get at Gwen or her dad, not if Murdock didn’t want him to.

The vicious satisfaction she felt at that thought filled her stomach with acid.

* * *

That evening, after a celebratory dinner with Dad and the Parkers, Gwen showed up at seven on the dot, in her Spider-Woman costume, to find Murdock already waiting for her on the roof. His feet were bare. Again.

“Glad you can be punctual,” he commented. “Lateness is something of a chronic weakness in kids your age.”

“Oh my god,” Gwen groaned, rolling her shoulders. “Is this gonna be an hour of ‘kids these days’ because if so just kill me.”

“Killing you so soon would just be a waste.”

She was… She was pretty sure that was a joke. The ‘so soon’ part, anyway. Leisurely, Murdock tapped his way to the center of the roof. Did he even need that cane, Gwen wondered, or was it just a convenient and inconspicuous place to stash a sword?

Speaking of the sword, was he planning to use that? In their first training session?

“So,” she said as she shifted anxiously from foot to foot, and swerved away from the question she really wanted to ask. “What’s with the bare feet?”

“Gwenzelle, do you happen to know why I bought this entire building?” Murdock asked idly, gesturing at the rooftop around them.

“Privacy?” she guessed. “Extra square footage for storing evil henchmen?”

“Good guesses. But no. It’s so I have twenty-five storeys of space where no one can tell me I have to wear socks or shoes.”

He said it with a completely straight face, too. Just, totally flat and serious. Gwen cleared her throat. There was a brief hint of amusement in the tilt of Murdock’s mouth, but it was gone so fast that Gwen thought maybe she’d imagined it. Finally, after thirty seconds of mystifying silence, Murdock let the joke go and spoke again.

“In any case. I already know a little of your capabilities from how you’ve fought others,” he said, loosening his tie, “but the best measure is to feel it directly. So. Try to hit me.”

Gwen blinked beneath her mask.

“You want me to hit you,” she repeated.

A thin smirk flashed across Murdock’s face.

“Well, I’d be extremely impressed if you _could_ , but I don’t expect you to actually succeed.”

Which sounded like a challenge to Gwen. She went in for a kick. Murdock dodged. Which was fine, that was fine, she’d expected that. He was a slippery bastard.

But he also dodged the next hit. And the next. And the one after that. The guy was ridiculously fast, and he always seemed to know right where she was and where she was aiming. Fine then, Gwen thought. She didn’t need to rely on her feet – she had another tool at hand, and she was determined to give Murdock a black eye at all costs. So, the next time he dodged, she shot a line of web past him to yank herself forward faster than she’d be able to propel herself alone. Foot, meet bad guy face!

Or so she’d intended.

But Murdock launched himself right over her head in a graceful arc. He flipped, and landed on his feet. Then, his arm shot out and the end of his white cane snapped against the inside of her left wrist, right where the web shooter was clasped.

“Ow! Hey!”

Gwen jerked her arm back. The web shooter went spinning through the air, and without a single ounce of hesitation, Murdock snagged it.

“What the hell?” Gwen demanded. “Give that back!”

“Mmm, no.” He tossed the web shooter up in the air and caught it again. “You need a solid base first, kiddo. We can start incorporating these babies again once I know you’re not going to use them to offset bad form. Only after we’re done with the basics can we do the fun stuff – it’s like building a wall, you’ve gotta start at the foundation.”

Ugh. He sounded like her dad. Or worse, her _math teacher_.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I’ll take the other one too,” Murdock ordered, leaning against his cane.

Gwen weighed the pros and cons in her head and decided it was worth it to try and argue with him. He knew what he was getting into when he decided to train her. And if he didn’t, well, he had to find out sometime right?

“But you know, if you’re judging my skill level to see where to start, doesn’t it make more sense not to handicap me?” she pointed out.

“I’m not judging your skill level, Spider-Woman,” Murdock countered patiently. “I’m trying to figure out what your form is like. Web-slinging is just excess noise I don’t need.”

“Fine.”

She slipped off her other web shooter. And then pitched it right at his smug face. Even if it broke, it would be worth it. Unfortunately, that damn cane whipped out again, hooking through the web shooter with ease. Murdock was still totally calm and unruffled. Jerk. Seriously, would it hurt the guy to just take a pratfall once in a while?

To that end, she leapt at him with a kick while he still had his hands full. Might as well take every advantage she could get. It wasn’t wrong to fight dirty against a guy like Murdock, not like he’d have a problem with stooping to something like that himself.

Although she didn’t like the startled delight on his face when he blocked her attack with his cane.

She spent the next couple of minutes trying to steal her web shooters back, but to no avail. Just as Gwen was starting to flag, Murdock called an end to the one-sided fight.

“You didn’t go for a punch,” he noted, tilting his head as she tugged back her mask to wipe the sweat off her brow. “Not once.”

Gwen shrugged.

“Kicks work better with swinging,” she pointed out.

The expression that crossed Murdock’s face then almost seemed to say, _ah, fair enough_.

“Show me anyway. Close your fist,” he ordered. “The way you would if you were going to hit me.”

Gwen formed a fist, and extended her arm.

“Ok?”

Murdock ran callused fingers over Gwen’s fist. There were scars on the back of his hand, Gwen noticed. The kind you could only see up close because the silvery color of them blended in to Murdock’s vampire-pale skin. They were… Extensive.

She was distracted from her thoughts by a horrified click of the tongue.

“Do you seriously tuck your thumb into your fist when you throw a punch?” Murdock demanded. “Jesus Christ, Gwendolyn. You’d _need_ extreme durability to survive hitting someone with this. I can see we’ve got our work cut out for us.”

And then his hands were re-forming her fist, untucking her thumb to set it loosely against her index and ring fingers, straightening her wrist. He was so focused on that task that he didn’t set off her Spider Sense at all, even though it almost always stayed at least at a dull pinging when he was in the room.

* * *

On the second day of her training, they actually took a little field trip away from the roof of Murdock’s penthouse apartment. Otomo drove them down to a row of slightly-dilapidated buildings by the river. It was only the second most awkward car ride of Gwen’s life – the first being when her dad had picked her up from school after she got detention for missing class. In her defense, Spider-Woman had been desperately needed to stop a rampaging Doc Ock, but she hadn’t been able to tell him that at the time. That incident had been almost a year before Dad learned about Gwen’s alter ego.

She spent the entire ride, plus their stroll into the building, wondering what Murdock’s plan was. Secret ninja ambush? Fight club? On-the-job crime training? The building they entered was dilapidated and creepy and definitely looked like the kind of place evil mob cronies would gather.

And then Gwen’s evil mentor explained what he had planned for their day’s training session. In response, Gwen could do little more than blink, baffled.

“You want me to punch a concrete wall?” she asked, jamming her finger over her shoulder to gesture at the wall in question, an interior wall that didn’t appear to be load-bearing.

Murdock nodded.

“Yes, I do. As hard as you can. I want you to know what that feels like, to exert all your strength.”

Gwen never used her full strength anymore. Not ever. If she went all out with her drumsticks, she would destroy her drum set. If she lashed out with all her strength, even at an inanimate object, she’d cause catastrophic collateral damage. Everything had to be about agility and movement and elegance – not strength. Murdock wanting her to unleash that strength could only be for nefarious purposes.

Or rather, the most nefarious purpose.

She shouldn’t have felt it, knowing who she was dealing with, but a feeling of betrayal crept into Gwen’s heart.

“You just want me to kill people, like you do,” she spat, the accusation too acidic to keep behind her teeth.

Murdock shook his head, clicked his tongue like she’d done something to disappoint him.

“It’s not all about killing, you know, Gwen,” he told her quietly. “It’s about having the ability _not to_.”

Gwen went cold all over.

“What?”

“Life and death are but a razor’s edge apart, Miss Stacy,” Murdock said, a cold smirk on his face, red glasses flashing as he tilted his head and threw his arms wide. “The way you are, one little slip of concentration and you won’t have a _choice_ whether your enemy dies or not. But if you can control yourself completely, you can control the output of your frankly monstrous strength. Which means you can control whether your opponents live or die. I know you didn’t want to kill the Parker boy.” Gwen’s ears rung at the mention of Peter. “Stick with me and you’ll never have an accident like that again. I can help you. And it starts here. With not being afraid. You have to understand your strength, your full power, in order to truly control it.”

Gwen sucked in a ragged breath and forced down the tears burning behind her eyes. When she’d fought Peter – when she’d fought the Lizard, she’d been angry. She hadn’t cared about controlling herself. But the truth was she didn’t have the practice to do it anyway. Spider-Woman tried to end things gracefully and as nonviolently as possible; she attacked with webs, not fists. Always. Except for that time.

Peter was dead.

And it was Gwen’s fault. And she never wanted anything like that to happen again. Murdock was a devil, but the deal he was offering, the result he was offering… She wanted that. Desperately. He had to know that.

“You’re a bastard,” she seethed.

“Maybe,” Murdock told her with a loose shrug. “But I’m also right. Now form up a fist, just like we practiced, and hit it. With all your might.”

She did, heart pounding violently against her ribcage.

Her fist exploded through the concrete.

* * *

There were a lot of ways in which Murdock’s training sessions were exactly what Gwen had expected – a nitpicky, truly blood-boiling experience full of hundreds of reasons Murdock needed a therapist or jail time or both. And yet, they were also nothing like Gwen had imagined at all. Murdock did actually seem to want her to learn, rather than just using it as an excuse to torment her. In fact, not a single punch was thrown her way during the entire first week. Murdock would repeat a stance or a move as many times as she asked, have her drill it out, let her test it by attacking him, and had her punch more concrete walls, but he never actually sparred against her. The lack of violence aimed in her direction made Gwen jumpy, honestly. It was kind of the foundation of their whole relationship, after all. He attacked her, she fought back and saved the day. In comparison, the light taps on her spine and ankles with his cane to correct her posture were downright gentle. Part of her almost longed for a surprise ninja attack to finally break the tension.

Of course, two weeks later, Gwen was regretting jinxing herself, spitting blood from her split lip onto the stupid fucking roof of that same fuck-off big penthouse apartment – and the reason for it had the gall to be standing over her in a fancy red suit and bare fucking feet, twirling his cane and telling her how they were _the same_.

“I’m not _anything_ like you!” she snarled, struggling to her feet and swiping the back of her hand against her chin.

Murdock tipped his head up, and light flashed over the red lenses of his glasses.

“I’m sure I must seem alarmingly well put together to you,” he said mockingly, sauntering over to the ledge and settling there without a care in the world — she wanted to push him right the fuck off the building. “But I’ve always had a bit of a temper. And I hate to lose. So I understand how this arrangement must chafe at you, Gwen. But it’s for your own good, really.”

She could barely breathe for how angry she was.

“For my own— You are a _complete_ —!”

Murdock held up a hand, palm out, and as much as Gwen wished it didn’t, that silenced her. She’d been playing with fire since their first meeting, in the hopes that an opportunity to beat him would present itself, but the truth was she’d been in over her head the entire time. Worse still, after having agreed to work with him in order to save her dad, she’d lost ground. So far all he’d demanded was that she train with him – he hadn’t even ordered her to stop going out as Spider-Woman, the way she’d thought he might. And she couldn’t deny he was getting to her because of that, Stockholm Syndrome style. Getting in her head.

“There’s only two possible outcomes here, Gwenzelle,” Murdock told her with a shark-like smile. “And my training is beneficial for both. I’m well aware that anger doesn’t predispose one to rationality, but you’re a smart girl. Either you manage to find a way to best me, or you buckle under and join my side on a more permanent basis. Learning from me improves your chances of success at either endeavor.”

All Gwen could seem to force out of her lungs for the next several seconds was a harsh, painful laugh.

“So,” she said. “So, what, this is Matt Murdock’s Evil Internship for Struggling Superheroes?”

Murdock shrugged.

“Sure. Has a nice ring to it.” He stood, then, stretched in a way that made a gut shot very tempting even if it had gotten her a knee to the ribs every other time she’d tried. “Even you have to admit you’re much less reliant on your enhanced strength and durability to make up for a lack of formal training. Your form has improved dramatically since we started this little… Internship.”

It had. But he was still wrong because there was no way in hell she’d admit it, especially to his face.

“How about I put a fist through your smug teeth and call it a day?”

“Atta girl,” Murdock replied, and he actually sounded genuinely pleased, _ugh_. “Let’s get back to it, then.”

* * *

Hooking back up with her old friends again after her adventure in Miles’s universe had meant getting the band back together. And getting the band back together meant playing gigs again. The Mary Janes weren’t in super high demand, given their hiatus in the year since Peter’s death, but Glory and Em Jay were unstoppable when they worked together instead of bickering. After months of practice and work, the band had a real gig. Sure, it was just a couple songs opening for someone else, but well. That’s how it went in showbiz. Especially when you were an unsigned band comprised of high schoolers. It was a nice venue, the stage was big, and they had leave to play four whole songs.

Best of all, there wasn’t a single disruption. No cries for help, no supervillains crashing the joint, nothing to keep Gwen and her precious drums apart. The band opened with the song that had been their standard since the beginning, “Face It, Tiger”, and then segued into Betty’s beautiful, blaring “Murderface” – the ode to their band pet-slash-mascot, and the only cat deaf enough not to mind Betty’s wailing guitar. Murderface himself was safely at Betty’s apartment, probably napping on the bed again, but Gwen played like the little guy was in the crowd to enjoy the performance anyway. Next was “Vulture”, which Em Jay had pushed Gwen to craft lyrics for in order to celebrate Spider-Woman’s defeat of the supervillain. It had been awkward writing out lyrics to jam out about her own exploits, but there was no denying the song was catchy. They ended on their newest-written piece; one Glory had headed called “Paper Doll”.

And it felt… Yeah, it felt good, just undeniably _good_ to be up on stage again. She’d almost forgotten, when she left her friends behind, how much the music was a part of her. Gwen had alternated between listening to her mp3 player nonstop and not even being able to bear touching it, and neither had felt right. Making music with the girls had been the missing component she needed, the steady bass line in the soundtrack of her life that held everything else together.

The Mary Janes finished strong, the crowd cheered, and Gwen’s whole body was singing with endorphins. She helped pack up with a spring in her step and parted ways with the rest of the band at the door of the venue.

Gwen had told her dad that she’d get a ride with Em Jay like the others. She’d told the band she was getting a ride from her dad. The truth was, she was gonna sneak in a little Spider-ing on her way home. It’d been in short supply lately. Murdock hadn’t expressly forbidden her from going out and saving the day, but between training and school and the band and her multiverse friends… Her schedule had gotten a little packed. Too packed for the intense Spider-Woman patrol schedule she’d fallen into after... After Peter.

Gwen had taken a cursory glance around the alley she was in before digging in her bag. Under her usual light jacket and her drumsticks and her mp3 player was the tight bundle of her Spider-Woman costume, wrapped protectively around her web shooters. Murdock still insisted on mostly training without them, but she hadn’t let him get his slimy hands on them ever since the first day – she always took them off herself and stuffed them in her backpack. Her dimension watch had been right out, she didn’t even take it with her to training. She was wearing it now, of course, but there was no way she’d keep it anywhere Murdock would have a chance to notice it. No way. That guy terrorized her New York enough, who knew what he’d do to someone else’s?

She had one arm buried in her bag and her head ducked down over it when her Spider Sense sent her a warning ping – a feeling like a chill zipping up her spine, but more electric.

Her head shot up, and standing right in front of her was a man.

He had to be like, thirty, forty? Somewhere in there. His hair was black and slicked away from his forehead. There was a smile on his face, but it wasn’t nice. A regular, garden variety creeper. Gwen tugged her bag closer to her chest in case he was gonna try to mug her.

“Nice set back there,” the guy said in what he probably thought was a charming voice.

He stepped closer. Like, way gnarly uncomfortably closer. Gwen shuffled back to put space between them, but hit the alley wall.

“Uh, yeah,” Gwen said in her best ‘back off dude I’m literally fifteen’ voice. “Thanks.”

“You girls looked real cute up there.”

_Gross._

“Cute isn’t really our vibe,” she informed him, beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable in the dress and tights she’d been just fine wearing all evening. “I’ve gotta go. My friends are waiting for me.”

“No they’re not. You sent them away.”

And oh, he’d been watching her way more closely than she’d realized. _Way to be quick on the uptake, Spider Sense_ , Gwen complained internally. _Seriously, thanks for that._ A hand closed tightly around her bicep.

“Why don’t you come with me, Gwen Stacy?” the creep asked, and a chill washed through her when she realized he knew her name. “I bet we can have a little fun.”

She was literally Spider-Woman, she didn’t take crap like that! Hell, she saved other girls from that kind of thing. She had super strength! She was stronger than this dude would ever be! Even if she was out of costume, there was no reason for her to freeze.

But she did.

Even as her mind was shouting at her body to move, to knee him in the balls, to yank out a web shooter and web him in his creepy face, her body did nothing. The guy’s other hand gripped her jaw. Gwen was ninety percent sure she was gonna hurl.

“I wonder how much your daddy will pay to—”

“Richard McAllister,” said a quiet, smooth, familiar voice that sent shivers down Gwen’s spine and had her Spider Sense screaming like a fire alarm. “You sound like you’re about to make a very big mistake.”

Creepy Guy – McAllister – jumped about half a foot in the air. It was kind of gratifying, honestly. _That’s right, jackhole_ , Gwen thought viciously, _a real bad guy is here now, whatcha gonna do?_

What he was gonna do, apparently, was grovel. Fair enough. All Gwen cared about was that his groveling made him let go and back off about three steps.

“I. Mr. Murdock, I. What are you doing here? Sir?”

 _Props on the sir_ , Gwen’s mind commented, finally getting back into its usual witty swing.

“I just came to support my latest client’s daughter in her artistic endeavors,” said Murdock, stepping smoothly out of the shadows, cane in hand. “And I don’t appreciate you threatening her.”

McAllister’s face went as gray as concrete. For her part, Gwen was just trying to calibrate the fact that Murdock was coming to her rescue instead of being the one behind McAllister’s attack. Sure, she was kind of his apprentice now so it made sense given the circumstances but. Well. He was still the bad guy. Sue her for having a bad opinion of him.

“I, I didn’t know,” stammered McAllister. “I promise, boss, I won’t touch the Stacy kid again—”

“And do you think it would be fine that you did this if I wasn’t personally invested in your victim?” Murdock asked, his voice full of calm interest.

McAllister didn’t seem to notice the deadly intent threaded underneath it. But Gwen did.

“Look, I’ll be more careful—”

“That,” Murdock said, slicing through the sputtered justifications without even raising his voice, “was not what I asked you, Ricky.”

McAllister’s throat bobbed noticeably as he swallowed.

“I, uh. I don’t…”

“Of course you don’t.”

There wasn’t even an attempt to hide the disdain in Murdock’s voice. McAllister seemed to sense it, and went into overdrive with making promises and begging the favor of his supremely pissed off evil boss. Murdock let it go on for about two minutes before putting up a hand to quell McAllister’s words.

Then, with a sigh, Murdock massaged his forehead.

“The thing is,” he said, “the pleas for mercy are entertaining, but this isn’t the first time you’ve caused issues for me. I’ve already made up my mind to remove you from my employ. Permanently.”

“ _What_?”

It took a couple seconds for Gwen to realize the word came from her own mouth. Murdock actually looked about as dumbfounded as Gwen felt.

“A problem, Gwendolyn?”

“Uh, yeah?” she said. “Because it sounds like you’re gonna kill this guy.”

Which was the exact point in time that McAllister decided to try and do a runner. Totally understandable, but he wasn’t really up to the task of escaping, no matter how distracted Murdock was. With a quick slam of Murdock’s foot against his calf, McAllister was on the ground screaming. His leg was probably broken. No, almost definitely. Distantly, Gwen wondered why no one had come out to check on the noise.

“You’ll have to excuse us a minute, Ricky,” Murdock said with a toothy, straight up feral smile on his face.

Then he turned and began walking towards the other end of the alley, sweeping Gwen along with him with his hand between her shoulder blades. He stopped just short of the mouth of the alley. The street next to them was eerily silent and empty.

“Yes, Gwendolyn? You were voicing an objection, I believe?”

“You can’t kill him!” she blurted before she could think of something more persuasive.

Murdock tilted his head.

“Of course I can kill him,” he snorted. “Who’s going to stop me?”

Gwen squared her shoulders.

“Me.”

A quiet noise of irritation reached Gwen’s ears as Murdock rubbed a hand over his mouth.

“Gwendolyn. Your naïve take on heroism is charming, but are you honestly going to waste your time on garbage like that? You know for a fact his plans for you were unsavory.”

A shiver worked its way up Gwen’s spine, but she held firm.

“I won’t let you kill someone if I can stop it,” she insisted.

“And can you?” Murdock asked, shifting both his grip on the cane in his hands and the position of his feet. “Stop it?”

Gwen knew what that posture meant. He was going to fight her. He was going to fight her and if she lost a man would die. Her web shooters were still in her bag, and Murdock had a sword. He would never give her the chance to dig them out – she’d have to try and do without. Still, she. She had to try.

That was what a hero was supposed to do. That was what Spider-Woman did. Get up every time she was knocked down. Keep fighting. Maybe she’d never won a spar against Murdock, but she’d also never been fighting for someone’s life.

Gwen dropped her bag to the ground and got into a ready stance.

She actually caught on to Murdock’s opening feint, and managed to avoid both getting kneed in the gut and punched in the face. Her returning kick didn’t get her anywhere, but she at least didn’t give him enough of an opening to grab her leg. Small victories. They traded blows back and forth for a while, not that any connected, and the fight got so fast-paced and intense that Gwen even lost her inhibitions and chanced throwing a punch or two.

Sweat was dripping down from her hairline and into her eyes by the time she realized there was something fishy about how telegraphed Murdock’s moves had been compared to when he sparred with her on the penthouse roof.

She almost, _almost_ caught his hand before it gave her a swift, sharp tap to the side of her throat. It wasn’t even particularly hard, she thought to herself, blood boiling as her vision wavered and she doubled over, coughing, to try and get her breath back. Murdock took the opportunity to sweep Gwen’s legs out from under her with his cane. Though she was able to catch herself on her outstretched hands, the landing was rough. Her tights tore at the knees.

By the time she’d started getting her feet under her, Murdock was halfway across the alley with the sword unsheathed from his cane. If she’d had her web shooters she could have yanked the damn thing out of his hand in an instant. But she didn’t. She’d never reach him in time.

She was going to watch him murder someone right in front of her.

Someone was going to die because Gwen hadn’t been prepared, hadn’t pulled it together, had let the situation get the best of her. And suddenly it wasn’t just some weirdo evil henchman at the other end of the alley, it was Peter. Peter, who was dead because of her.

How many times would that happen? How many people would she fail?

She fought against the deep, cold darkness of that thought, tried to reach for the feeling she got when Miles held out his hand. Tried to push to her feet. Even if it was a losing battle, she was a Spider-person and she had to fight it. But her arms gave out and she couldn’t, she couldn’t, she. Couldn’t breathe. Spots danced across Gwen’s eyes as she struggled for air, fingers cold and tingling. Murdock stood above McAllister, raised his sword—

And then plunged the tip of it into McAllister’s right shoulder. Not the left, near his heart. Not in his throat. Was he going to torture him to death? Gwen’s stomach churned.

Murdock crouched down next to McAllister and began to speak.

“I’m not here to micromanage your life. That level of insipid paranoia is, frankly, beneath me. But actions have consequences, Mr. McAllister,” he said very evenly, digging the blade of the sword further into the meat of McAllister’s shoulder. “Today, the consequence is this wound. I would think very hard before deciding you want to chance tomorrow’s consequence.”

And then he tugged the sword free and stood. Didn’t make any move to injure the guy further.

Didn’t kill him.

Sure, McAllister was still bleeding and whimpering, but. But Murdock didn’t finish him off. Gwen levered herself back onto her calves and lifted an ice-cold hand to her face, shakily pushing her hair out of her eyes.

“Otomo?” Murdock called.

Otomo melted out of the shadows like the creepy ninja butler he was.

“Yes?”

“Please escort this flagrant waste of oxygen to the hospital to get his wounds treated. I’d hate for him to bleed out and waste the lesson.”

There was an abnormally long pause, and Murdock tilted his face in Otomo’s direction as if to say, _did you hear me or what?_

“Right away,” Otomo corrected with a nod.

“Good man.”

Then Murdock sauntered his way back to Gwen at the other end of the alley, pulling a piece of cloth from his suit pocket to clean the blood off the blade of his sword. Gwen just sat there and watched him, head spinning. Her breaths were coming in ugly, gulping gasps, but at least they were getting her oxygen again.

Murdock wasn’t going to kill McAllister. Wasn’t even going to leave him in the alley and chance him bleeding out. When Murdock reached her, the sword was clean, and he tucked the little cloth away again.

“Why. Why didn’t you kill him?” Gwen stammered, her fingertips still tingling and numb with terror.

“I could always go _back_ and kill him, if you like,” offered Murdock.

He very noticeably didn’t even attempt to answer her question.

“Why?” she repeated, more forcefully, struggling to her feet on shaky legs. “You fought past me to do it, why did you stop?”

Sheathing the sword back into his cane, Murdock shrugged.

“Just a whim. Nothing more. Come along, Gwen, I’ll walk you home.”

Despite the congenial phrasing, it wasn’t an offer, it was an order. Not that Gwen had the energy to argue with him about it. She picked up her bag and hugged it to her chest as she followed Murdock out of the alley and down the street.

* * *

“What street are we on?”

Gwen jerked out of the fog she’d been in for their entire walk.

“Huh?”

“The street sign, Gwendolyn,” Murdock repeated impatiently. “Tell me what it says. I can’t exactly read it myself.”

Well, that answered her question about if he was faking the blindness. Gwen rubbed at her eyes, then craned her neck to read the street sign for him. They were only a couple blocks from her house.

“I could walk from here,” she pointed out, even as a part of her recoiled from the idea.

Which was just dandy. Scared to walk a few blocks alone? Seriously? And after Murdock was the one to kick her ass in broad daylight? Nevermind that he saved her from McAllister. That wasn’t the point. The point was that she wasn’t acting like Spider-Woman; no, this was more like Pilot-Fish-Woman.

“Just let me be a responsible mentor,” said Murdock, dry and sarcastic – there was a smirk on his face but it seemed a little different than usual somehow. “I’d hate to alienate my favorite police captain.”

So they continued on until they made it safely back to Gwen’s house. Murdock didn’t leave when they arrived, though. Just stood there in front of the house with her.

“Your heartbeat’s finally begun to even out,” he noted at last, as if that was something he could actually know.

Which was messed up and hella weird, but more importantly…

“Why do you care?” Gwen snapped, clutching her bag closer.

Murdock tilted his chin like he was rolling his eyes behind his red shades.

“Well I’m not exactly invested in having my apprentice suffer an anxiety attack, am I. The one you were having in the alley seemed serious.”

Gwen sucked in a breath. The words were flat, bored, uninterested. But the tone was irrelevant.

Anxiety attack? Murdock had been paying seriously close attention to how he was reacting if he could pick up on that – especially from twenty feet away. Gwen hadn’t been able to get enough air in her lungs to make noise. But Murdock had known somehow. Like he knew everything.

And he hadn’t killed McAllister.

Because of her.

Gwen didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing at all.

“Training tomorrow,” instructed Murdock at last, sounding almost uncomfortable. “Same time and place as usual.”

“R-right, yeah,” Gwen agreed.

Then, Murdock turned on his heel and left. She watched him until he disappeared around the corner, firm power walk as far from his usual unhurried strolling as it was possible to get. It took another two minutes past that before Gwen could uproot herself and enter the house.

She had a lot to think about.

Because, like. Obviously, Murdock was The Worst. Except that. He wasn’t? Actually? He’d all but told McAllister that his creeping on teenagers was beyond the pale. Had been so pissed about it that he’d wanted to kill him. And then, even wilder, had decided _not_ to kill him because of Gwen’s freakout. So even he – slimy, scummy jerkwad that he was – apparently had lines he wouldn’t cross. Which was good, Gwen supposed – both for the world at large and for her personally. It just. You know, muddied the waters a little, and she didn’t like that. When it came down to it, she’d always kind of seen him as the Big Bad, so cartoonishly evil that there was no room for a speck of anything else. The dawning realization that he might have layers and contradictions and maybe even, like, _feelings_ and stuff made her stomach twist.

Gwen went straight to her room, dropped her bag on the floor, and flopped face-down onto her bed with a groan. She didn’t know how long she lay there, but a beep from the dimension watch had her flailing to bring her wrist up to her bleary eyes. The number 42 flashed across its face.

Good. Maybe Miles would be able to distract her.


End file.
